In The End
by Ferret Boy
Summary: What exactly happened the night Lily and James died? *SPOILERS*


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Title:   
In The End  
  
Rating:  
PG-13  
  
Author:  
Ferret Boy (amazingbouncingferret@hotmail.com)  
  
Author Notes:  
- Harry Potter, or any of the other canon characters used in this work of fiction, are not owned by me. They are a copyright of J.K. Rowling, Raincoast, Warner Brothers and many other companies, most which I cannot remember at the moment, so I'll merely leave it at that.  
- The base idea of this, for the record, does not belong to me.  
- No. I did not steal it. It was written in the Harry Potter series. This fanfic is mainly about the deaths of James and Lily Potter in my eyes.  
- Before you even ask, YES, this fic DOES have the title of a Linkin Park song, but believe me, there is no relation or references between the two in anything else but title.  
- Oh yeah. This is merely a warning. Just seeing if anybody actually reads these notes that I provide for them. There are major spoilers and such for Prisoner of Azkaban in here. If you are just a beginning Potter fan, then this fanfic is certainly not for you, however, if you've read the third novel and beyond... welcome aboard.  
  
Special Comments:  
Yeehaw. I love it when I get ideas like this in the middle of role-play and actually have time to flesh them out properly while at work.  
Thank you, Pamela, for being an 'avid reader' of mine. I swear, you're my only fan. :P Also, mucho thanks to Sara, my bestest best friend and beta-reader. Luvs for you both! :D  
  
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Sometimes, I wish I could return to the past, that I had the power and chance to change things, make them happen differently. Maybe then Lily and James might not have died that night, not in that terrible way, even if their death was truly inevitable.  
  
I know that is not possible. I must live with the decisions I have made, though I can not stand by them as being the best. I must live with the suffering I have caused for countless others, but mostly Lily and James themselves...  
  
Please don't hate me. I was young, weak and impressionable. I know that that is no excuse for what I have done.  
  
Let me say this, however. If there was one thing I could say to you both, it would be that I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me. I don't expect you to, nor do I want you to. I just want you to know...  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Take Harry upstairs and bolt the door!" James' wand was already out, held with a steady hand.  
  
Her mouth fell open but Lily didn't utter a noise. While it was in her mind to formulate a protest, she knew that it would make little to no difference.  
  
They would never meet again in this world.  
  
* * * * *   
  
My insides twisted into numerous, complex knots. My breath came in short, agonizing gasps. Thinking straight was a challenge. I was so worried that it clouded my vision. Or... maybe it was the tears that threatened in the corners of my eyes. It's the feeling when you're forced to wait for something to happen. Something terrible. Something that can change your life beyond recognition. Something that threatens to take away everything you've ever known.  
  
I knew even before he told me. That calm face with wise eyes, so often wearing a cheerful smile despite the times, was overcome with the most unimaginable sorrow and regret. "Voldemort has come to the home of James and Lily Potter." Headmaster Dumbledore spoke kindly, slowly, allowing me time to absorb the information, as devastating as it was.  
  
It's a strange feeling, when you suddenly have no insides at all.  
  
"I know," I said, choosing my words carefully, taking heed not to show my upset.  
  
Dumbledore took a step towards me, his smile was sympathetic. I sank in my seat and slouched, using my knees to support my elbows, using my hands to support my face. It was as though I would collapse at any moment, no matter how hard I tried to hold myself together. He stood beside me then, dedicating a comforting pat to my shoulder.  
  
"All will be well." He tried his best to sound reassuring, but even I, in my distraught state, could detect the falter in his voice. It was as though, for once, he had no idea what the outcome would be, but there was an unwavering belief that things would turn out okay upon reaching conclusion.  
  
I wanted so much to believe with him with every fiber of my being. I even felt compelled to believe, but couldn't possibly. If only I could be as strong as he, to hope against all hopes... I knew better, and yet, I did not.  
  
"James and Lily are prepared," Dumbledore continued, as though fully aware of what I had been thinking, "They have been since the day they were wed. They know what to do. I'm sure you understand."  
  
An irrational thought process took control of my mind. I couldn't possibly help myself. "There must be something we can do!" It wasn't a question, it was a statement. I looked up at him, through the unkempt bangs of auburn, searching for an answer. An answer in which he could not give. I didn't want to feel so helpless! I didn't want to have to live with the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to save the lives of two of my most precious friends! I wanted to be of assistance, not sit here idle. There could have been anything of which I didn't already know!  
  
The smile he wore on his aged face was no longer of sympathy, but of great reverence. I wanted to sacrifice myself selflessly. I wasn't looking for any glory in such an act. His expression was like that of a proud father admiring his brave son. "Things must happen when it is time for them to happen." That was Dumbledore's explanation for everything and it was a good one. Indeed, they must happen. I just wished, deep down inside, that the time was not now, that it was later.  
  
He left the room, then, after patting me one last time on the shoulder. The comforting feeling in the air fled with him, abandoning me in the place where mocking shadows danced all along the walls to the music of candle-light. I wanted him to come back, to stay with me until it was all over, but Dumbledore had to prepare for things that would soon come to pass. I suppose I was doomed from the start to live with the knowledge that I couldn't do a thing for the rest of my life.  
  
I stared for a long time into the flickering flame before me through the fingers splayed across my face. The feeling of loss soon overwhelmed me. I dropped all defenses and wept bitterly into my hands, uncaring of who might hear my wracking sobs. James and Lily, happily married only a short time ago, and their son, were going to die.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The door simply... vanished.  
  
It didn't burst into flames. It didn't explode. It was as if it never existed at all.  
  
Under the weight of anticipation, James could feel his resolve crumble into a million pieces. He had expected to die. He had expected to see the Dark Lord, presented there before him like some evil omen. He had expected to hear the triumphant maniacal laughter, just as the infamous killing curse was cast.  
  
But there was nothing. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. All that existed was the night outside and a dimly lit street, which stood empty.  
  
James waited. For anything. A simple sign. A slight movement in the blackness. Even a flicker of the shadows the lights cast. Yet, nothing moved. Everything remained still, though he mentally urged it to do otherwise. Well aware of what an excellent target he made, standing outlined in his doorway, the man drew back inside of his haven... and a cold, high laugh gave a merciless chuckle. Robes rustled, the sound of a wand being unsheathed and brought to the light. The flash reflecting off the polished surface caught the corner of his eyes. It came from behind. James spun around to face the owner.  
  
Eyes stared at him down the length of what could have once been called a nose. Gleaming... amused... they shone from the depths of darkness created by the hood that shrouded his face. Voldemort snorted at the man, the folds of fabric giving a mocking shudder. The Dark Lord stood before James without even a trace of fear, cutting an imposing figure in which the other did not, would not, bow to. A smirk creased his features, going unseen. "See where bravery gets you, James Potter."  
  
Thousands of stars exploded in his vision. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of his mind, he was vaguely aware of being at the mercy of the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
Unable to stop himself, James fell heavily to the floor and writhed in excruciating pain. His screams of torture echoed through-out the household, shrieking back in an eerie music of torment, but he couldn't hear them. He wasn't even aware that he was screaming at all.  
  
He thrashed violently, his long legs knocking tables to the floor to join him without care, pictures that had rest upon them were sent momentarily airborne. At each side of his head were his hands, tangled in the obsidian locks, tearing helplessly at his scalp in futile attempts to make it all stop.  
  
The only thing he knew, the only thing he could understand... was the disturbing world of pain which saw fit to unleash its wrath upon him. Yelling eventually drove him hoarse and when he could no longer do that, he choked and gagged trying. His pulse was erratic, oxygen became scarce and his body further punished him with the sensation of not being able to breathe. It was as though something unseen had knocked all the wind forcefully from his chest. Great, shuddering spasms began to wrench his prone form; a wild look of fear was in his eyes.  
  
Then it was all over.  
  
For a moment, allowed to preserve his dignity and die like a hero rather than a rat, the pain had stopped. James stilled. The room spun about him in a whirl of unrecognizable shapes and colors. He suddenly felt utterly sick to his stomach. The need for sustenance to his starved lungs sent him gulping greedily for deep breaths of air to satisfy before his vision could clear. While he could not see, recollection of where he was returned all too soon. Hands set to groping about blindly on instinct for his wand... which he could not find.  
  
Somewhere above, he was dimly aware of Voldemort, who snickered in sick amusement. "I believe you are looking for this?" The creature, the messenger, fondly stroked the glittering mahogany with a deformed, warped hand. James lifted his head with agonizing slowness, expression blank, and stared without sign of comprehension. He was truly a pitiful sight to behold. Then, he snarled in defiance. Their battle was not yet quite over.  
  
"I am not a man without honor, despite how many I have killed, James Potter." The voice of the Dark Lord was not that of mercy, but that of pure delight. He smiled in a pleased manner, "You may have your wand, even if it will benefit you not." It was tossed aside, without care, with complete and total confidence, mixed with terse patience as James fumbled clumsily, still wrapped up in a state of only temporary disarray.  
  
There was a clinking crack of a noise, the sound of wood when it collides with glass...  
  
James reached for it, seemingly unaware of the shards of glass. He had to seize the opportunity to stand a chance. The gloss of the picture reflected the light above him. It drew his eyes and there he hesitated, hand poised, unable to commit action. Beneath the wand and shattered glass was a photograph. A beautiful photograph, taken on a lovely sunny day. Lily smiled sweetly up at him and Harry gurgled with joy. Remus, Sirius and Peter threw their arms around his picture-self's shoulders companionably. They all looked so happy.  
  
James' heart shattered. Things would never be the same.  
  
He lifted the picture with numb fingers from the shattered cover and grasped it firmly. His other hand moved to locate the fallen wand. The wall provided him leverage to climb shakily to his feet. James faced the hooded figure and brandished his weapon, channeling the very will of his being into it. If things could never be the same, then he would die to make a path for the future happiness of others. His prayers were with Lily. His prayers were with Harry. His prayers were with Sirius and Remus. His prayers were with Peter... and he hoped with all that remained of his broken heart that his chosen keeper would receive mercy and redemption. Voldemort raised his own wand in return.  
  
All James saw was a blinding flash of bright, green light.  
  
The room was suddenly made of it and then it wasn't. Darkness consumed his vision and swallowed it whole, like a raging fire. It took his entire world with it, everything was engulfed with black. He was only vaguely aware of dying.  
  
Then, there was nothing.  
  
Voldemort spared not even a glance at the crumpled, lifeless body of James Potter. There was no time to revel in this small victory. He had other matters to attend to, matters that hid behind a locked door, held tightly in his mother's fearful clutch. The cloaked figure swept over the fresh corpse, his robes rustling in protest to the movement. Only one member was left of the Potter lineage that he was to deal with it. One foot purposely placed in front of the other, he proceeded up the stairs to finish what he had started.  
  
Eyes that would no longer see stared unfocused at the ceiling and held tight in death's clutch was the photograph. Silent tears streaked unchecked down the cheeks of Lily Potter.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I had not first understood why I felt compelled to take to the skies that evening. I thought that it could have been anything. The weight of my world sitting heavily upon my shoulders. My fear or worry, perhaps. There were so many reasons... but I never for a moment expected it to be anything like this.  
  
It was as though an unseen force reached through my chest and viciously took hold of my heart with an unbreakable grip, squeezing with all its might. The world tilted, cloud and stars blending together in a sickening spiral. I found myself only able to breathe in labored, painful gasps. There was a sudden dampness upon my cheeks, a stinging of my eyes.  
  
"Oh god..." My choking sob echoed back to me in the dark world of black and gray. James Potter, my best friend, one of the greatest people I had ever known, was dead. I knew but could not explain how.  
  
Numb hands held on tight to the handles of a motorcycle whose calming hum offered no comfort. The wind offered its unwanted aid, whispering soothingly into my ear, but chilling me to the bone at the same time. I shivered, despite the clothing worn to warm me. The wracking beginnings of another mournful cry stumbled along the way to my mouth, but I dared not make a noise, though I was aware that even if I did, no one would hear me. Why did I prevent it? There was no reason to pretend to be strong, to pretend that things didn't affect me, didn't hurt me, didn't crush me...  
  
There was no reason to pretend that things didn't eat me up inside.  
  
Secret keeper. A trustworthy individual who would conceal a secret in their very own soul, making it literally impossible to find. Created by performing the Fidelius Charm.  
  
Lily and James had chosen a secret keeper. One and only one could reveal the location of Godric's Hallow. One and only one would have the ability to disclose that information, should they desire to do so.  
  
Why?  
  
Why would you betray your very own best friends? Did you honestly think you would achieve immunity from the repercussions after the evil you have wrought? What made you do this? Does it make you feel better, knowing that you have caused the possible deaths of two many have loved?  
  
My mind spat out so many questions at once before I had the opportunity to develop a rational thought pattern. No, Peter. I can not blame you entirely for this. After all, it was my fault they changed their minds and chose you. It was my fault for not seeing you for what you are, for not protecting them both.  
  
Though emotional turmoil and rational thoughts continued their war within me, I managed to guide my motorcycle skillfully through the cloud cover; the blackness below came rushing to meet me like some horrible creature preparing to devour its prey. My eyes adjusted, I blinked away the remaining tears. Lights of a thousand homes dotted the ground like stars in the sky. The memory of my first time seeing such a thing was suddenly fresh in my mind. Its perfect beauty. Its delicate, embracing glow. I remembered how it was breath-taking. I held on for dear life in fear that perhaps the sight would unexpectedly reach up to draw me to it.  
  
Now, however, the scenery was heavily saturated with sorrow. There was a bitter wetness on my lips. Everything all came together, yet, I hovered for a long moment. Where would I go? Where was my heart directing me? I eventually succumbed to the sense of urgency and descended to the glittering ground far below.  
  
I would go to Godric's Hollow. James was dead, but perhaps there was still time to reverse the evil that seemed to be unstoppable. Perhaps Lily and Harry were still alive. Then again, maybe I was a fool for even trying...  
  
* * * * *  
  
There was sound and then nothing. Lily did her best to choke back fearful tears, sliding the lock into place above the handle of the door. Would she meet a similar demise before her son's eyes? Lord have mercy. Harry deserved not to be a witness to such torture. The child with brilliant green eyes, a reflection of her own, sat in the middle of the bed that she and James had once shared. His expression was frighteningly solemn, unfit for a babe of only one and a half years. It was as if he could understand what was happening to the world around him. The tiny body was filled with fear and sorrow, so much that he quivered visibly. Lily went to him immediately in response to his silent need for comfort. She threw her arms about him, whispering soft words of apology into his ear, stroking the unruly black hair to sooth him.  
  
Harry stiffened in her arms, the green of his irises devouring the black of his pupils. His head turned towards the door, a tiny, strangled noise escaped from the throat. Voldemort was on the other side, she realized, come to claim her son after murdering her husband.  
  
"It is a pity and a grave mistake you have made, Lily Evans, marrying one who possesses the last name of 'Potter'. Had it of not been for that, all would have been finished with the death of James." The voice echoed throughout the room, as if the Dark Lord had been within, rather than outside. Shivers coursed in an unending line down her spine. "Not that it matters," Voldemort gave a dramatic pause. "For all shall be over with soon..." Harry buried his head into her shoulder, clutching to her fearfully, his cries muffled by the cloth of her shirt.  
  
"I have come for the life of your son."  
  
The door exploded into flames. Charred wood and still burning embers were forced into the room by the blast. Lily did her best to shield the child, delicately pinning him between herself and the mattress of the bed while debris showered around them, igniting the covers. Harry's small fingers dug painfully into her arms. He held onto her as though she were the only real thing left in a world of chaos, as though she were the only real thing that would prevent him from slipping into it.  
  
From the shadowed hallway came the creature who was once a man. Voldemort stepped through the wreckage like an incarnation of Death come to collect what had been owed to him. An arm extended, fingers unfurled from the palms to make a beckoning motion. "Hand the child to me and your life will be spared."  
  
He could have been lying. Perhaps she would be forced to watch her son suffer, as James had downstairs, before Voldemort turned on her. Maybe not. Lily didn't even take a moment to consider it. She released Harry, who uttered a soft cry of protest, back to the bed. The wife of James Potter would not stand for such things. Possessed with the same bravery her husband had been known for, she turned to face the Dark Lord, throwing out her arms to either side in defiance to keep him at bay. Her face was like a stone cast, surrounded by lovely locks of crimson, carved and perfect. "You will not lay a single finger on my child." The level monotone invited no sway. Lily Potter would not move.  
  
"How touching." His face was shrouded by darkness, but she could sense his strange eyes upon her, regarding her like a patient parent would their temperamental child, "Would you rather die than save yourself?"  
  
It was a silly question. "I would sacrifice my life gladly for my son rather than flee in terror."  
  
A short, derisive laugh echoed. Beneath the hood, Voldemort smirked faintly. "How beautifully admirable." His tone of voice made a vicious meal of the words laced with venom, "And foolish. Such a sacrifice would be in vain, for your son's death would only be following your own, afterwards." Like holding a sword, he pointed his wand directly at her heart. "I am giving you the opportunity to reconsider."  
  
There was nothing to reconsider, however. Lily did not step aside. She remained rooted to the spot with her arms outstretched. "Nothing you can say will change my mind. Harry's only a child! Have mercy!"   
  
His expression soured in the most terrible way; the patience of the parent had been pushed to its limit and beyond. The generous offer had been refused, "So be it. Die for the sake of your son, you foolish woman. He will join you, shortly."   
  
The words of the killing curse cut sharply in the air choked with smoke. She was falling, though only vaguely aware of doing so. She was falling backwards, screaming, trying to hold on to anything. Falling into the same darkness which had consumed her husband. Falling for what seemed like eternity.  
  
She would leave her son, now. Lily Potter was on her way to reunite with James. Voldemort simply stepped past her to Harry, just as he had done to the man crumpled on the floor in the entrance way. The small child reached out with his tiny hands for his mother, though he would never catch her, a terrified, thin wail escaping from his lips.  
  
There was no longer the ability to hear... There was no longer the ability to see... There was no longer the ability to do anything... Except imagine. Imagine what things could have been like. Harry would be soon attending Hogwarts. In her mind, she could at least see that, still. He was smiling and laughing, surrounded by many irreplaceable friends. It was all in a world without Voldemort. A wonderful place where she and James could have raised their son in peace, without having to run, without having to hide. A perfect world.  
  
Allow my sacrifice to protect him, Lily's last thought rang out clear through the black just as she exhaled for the last time, dead before hitting the floor.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I ran.  
  
I ran as fast as I could. As fast as my short legs would carry me. But I while I would be able to run from the consequences, never would I be able to run from the knowledge.  
  
When did this all start? Perhaps it had been when I was boy. Maybe when I was upon the threshold of adulthood. All I knew was that I had always been someone who had respected power and those with it. Being the cowardly, lazy sort of person I was, it was certainly something which I would never obtain. Perhaps I was too frightened to even try on top of that.  
  
They seemed so insignificant in the beginning, but as I grew to know them I realized that James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were people with power. I was able to earn their friendship. An entirely new concept had dawned upon me, then. Those with power protect those who follow them. Those three were more than capable of doing so.  
  
In all my years of Hogwarts, I feared no ridicule, no student, and no teacher. If I had ever gotten into a little bit of trouble, they would come to rescue me. Things changed upon graduation, however. The world cocooned within the halls of the school was a safe one, for Voldemort dared not attack as long as Dumbledore was around, but the world outside was quite a different story. The Dark Lord was on the verge of taking over. The balance of power shifted greatly in his favor.  
  
Despite strong bonds of friendship I had made over the years with those who had supported me through-out my life at Hogwarts, I knew the truth all too well. The certainty of protection had been lost. Everyone was scared. People were too afraid to go to sleep for fear that they might perhaps wake in the middle of the night to find their loved ones gone. Or worse.  
  
James, Lily and their son vanished into the night, hidden away to ensure their safety. Only one person would know where they were; it was supposed to have been Sirius. If only it had been Sirius. Instead, their secret keeper, the one whom they cast the Fidelius Charm upon, was me. If only I hadn't been so frightened, just as everyone else was. Sirius wasn't afraid. He proposed acting as a sort of decoy in the matter as nobody would suspect me, but I had my own thoughts: self-preservation. Voldemort would surely torture me if he ever found out. Torture, a lingering death... perhaps even more!  
  
I gave the information to him freely. I thought of myself, considered my welfare over those others, but I had reassurance that I would have his protection which I accepted at the cost of lives. Lives of those that had trusted in me. I should have known how things would have turned out in the end. Voldemort had failed. Some said he died. Others believed that he had merely fled. All I know was that the promise had fallen through. He would not protect me now, nor would the Death Eaters, thinking I had purposely lead their lord to what was thought to be his untimely demise. I dared not even ask for assistance from Sirius or Remus for they would certainly offer no aid. To do so would have been madness. I had committed the unforgivable, after all.  
  
At that moment, I couldn't help but wonder, running over these thoughts in my mind... Might it have been the same, had one of them betrayed me, instead?  
  
I rounded the corner, emerging from the alley into a crowded muggle street, my lungs aching painfully for air. I had pushed my unfit body to its limit, doing what it was not accustomed to and would now have to pay the price. For a moment and just a moment, I had to stop. I leaned heavily against a wall of brick, the rough texture almost like heaven against my numb fingers after the strenuous sprint. Of course, I also made sure to take a look at my surroundings while I had the chance to... And there... standing at the end... was Sirius. I was caught in the act of escape. Was it for the purpose of turning me in? Or was it to avenge the lives of the friends which he had lost, knowing the consequence for what his actions would bring, but uncaring all the same?  
  
Regardless of whatever the reason was, he had been following me. Perhaps from the very start. Maybe he had only found me now by chance. I could not say, and so I noticed him then for the first time. I cursed myself for not realizing he had possibly been there all along. I had no desire to die or be taken captive. I acted in impulsive cowardice and brandished my wand like a hero without any intention of doing battle. He mirrored my actions moments afterwards, but the hesitation cost him dearly. A plan formulated immediately.  
  
"James and Lily! How could you?!" I bellowed. Sirius reeled in shock. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, perhaps to say something in return, but the battle was already in my favor. The street exploded around us. I transfigured. Then... I ran.  
  
I ran as fast as I could. Again. Thirteen dead muggles, Sirius alive and a finger left as my remains. What a lovely crime scene. Perfect for framing the best friend of James and Lily Potter. While I fled to save myself, an innocent man was to be sentenced to spend the rest of his life in the hell that is Azkaban in my place.  
  
* * * * *  
  
And the night continued on, as all nights do...   
  
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